


I'll be waiting [come find me]

by NotThatIWillEverWriteIt



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Don't look at me even I don't know, Drunkenness, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Or showing up suddenly kind of relationship, Post-High School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 01:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22307557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotThatIWillEverWriteIt/pseuds/NotThatIWillEverWriteIt
Summary: Mo Guan Shan hadn't heard from He Tian for almost six months. For five months and twenty-three days to be exact, but who was counting.
Relationships: He Tian/Mo Guanshan (19 Days)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 131





	I'll be waiting [come find me]

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of felt like writing something that didn't take a lot of planing for a change. So, here. 
> 
> **Read and review! <(_ _)>**

”You got a girl waiting for ya or what?”

Guan Shan flinched and looked up from his phone. The old man sitting on a creaky crate grinned at him knowingly over the dirty stub of his cigarette. Feeling like he had been caught, Guan Shan hurried to shove the phone in his pocket.

“Just my ma,” he said and drew a deep drag of his cigarette.

The man’s grin deepened revealing a row of teeth stained shades of yellow by years of smoking. There was a black gap where one of the teeth was missing. Years ago, the man had lost it in a fight with a cocky guy in a black suit and shining shoes who had thought he could squeeze a few easy bucks off the old man. In the end, he was short of one tooth, but the guy hadn’t shown his face since. A story he loved to tell anyone sitting down at the bar for long enough.

“Could’ve fooled me. Made me think you’ve got a sweetheart waiting for ya the way ya keep checking that damn thing.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Nothin’ wrong if ya had. A young guy like you should live a little.”

Guan Shan huffed.

“I’m too busy working my ass raw for you.”

The old man chuckled, but it deepened into a coughing fit that doubled him over and brought tears in his bulging eyes. Guan Shan took a hesitant half step towards where the man was sitting but he was waved off almost crankily. The man managed to draw in a rattling breath, snorted, and spat out something yellow and slimy aiming where the cracked pavement met the concrete base of the bar and a line of green was stubbornly pushing through.

“Damn it,” the man said, catching his breath and wrapping his faded winter jacket tighter around his shoulders. “’tis damn weather. Doing me like this.”

It was late autumn, and the evenings had grown colder. Earlier in the morning, Guan Shan's boots had stepped on a frozen puddle and the thin ice had cracked satisfyingly. The dawn had smelled like the first snow.

“I’m sure smoking isn’t helping.”

The man glared at Guan Shan with his dark piercing eyes. The only lively sparks in his weather-beaten, lined face.

“Don’t ya start, too, boy. I get enough o’ that from the old hag at home.”

“Maybe she’s right.”

“’Course she’s right!” the man raised his voice and caught another coughing fit.

This time Guan Shan wasn’t shooed away. He gave the man’s back a couple of hefty whacks silently grimacing at the way he could almost feel the brittle bones creak under his palm. The second fit was more stubborn to subside and left the man leaning on Guan Shan’s hand on his shoulder.

“I’s this,“ he wheezed, “damn weather.”

The phone vibrated a couple of times in Guan Shan's pocket. His hand jerked to reach for it but halted when he glanced at the man recovering from hacking up a lung. The man caught his hesitation and straightened himself the best he could.

“Go on, kid,” he said. “Don’t keep ‘er waiting.”

Guan Shan frowned down at the man. He didn’t like the ashy look on his face, but the phone was burning in his pocket.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

The man stubbed out his cigarette on the pavement and tossed it in the already overflowing ashtray made out of an old relish can. With some difficulty, he levered himself on his feet and clasped Guan Shan’s shoulder almost painfully.

“Bright ‘n early,” he said and flashed the yellowish grin before waving his goodnights.

Guan Shan’s eyes followed the uneven sway of the man’s shoulders caused by his left knee dipping under the weight on every other step until the man disappeared through the backdoor. Apparently, he had hurt his leg while locked in a game of mahjong against a local boss. Like all the old man’s stories, Guan Shan had heard this tale countless times, too. But how playing mahjong and hurting his knee were connected had always remained a mystery to him.

As the beat-up backdoor clanked shut, Guan Shan dug out his phone. His eyes darted on the screen to catch the preview of the received message. It truly was from his mother. She was asking if Guan Shan was free next Sunday for dinner. Pretending like his shoulders hadn’t sagged in disappointment, he tapped a reply and shoved the phone back in his pocket. The cold wind picked up between the buildings. Guan Shan hunched his shoulders against the chill and strode briskly out of the alleyway to the main street. 

It had been almost six months by now. Five months and twenty-three days, to be exact since he had last heard from He Tian.

_Who’s keeping who waiting_ , Guan Shan thought to himself bitterly.

It wasn’t that he was worried – because he wasn’t – but this was the longest He Tian hadn’t contacted him. Not so much as a peep which was a stark contrast to how the guy didn’t seem to have anything else to do than filling Guan Shan’s inbox. Every morning, without fail, he was woken up by a “ _good morning, little Mo~_ ”. At lunch and dinner, he received pictures of He Tian’s meals. The rest of his day was constantly interrupted by idle, random commentary. At nights, just as he was about to fall asleep, his phone chimed with a “ _sleep well, little Mo_ ”. For every ten messages he got from He Tian, Guan Shan replied to maybe one or two.

_Apparently redheads aren't actually going extinct ε-(´_ _・｀_ _)_ _ﾌ_ _But you’re still the only one for me, little Mo~_

Five months, twenty-three days, and counting since that nonsense.

Almost six months of jumping every time his phone chimed. Dragging his feet after late-night shifts, smoking a cigarette after another with the old man huddled in the alleyway. Paying more for electricity by leaving the dim light on above the front door for nights.

He wasn’t waiting for He Tian to show up. But, just in case.

The uneasiness that had nestled and grown in the pit of Guan Shan’s stomach wasn't worrying but irritation. He was pissed off. If He Tian had finally decided to leave him alone, good. But the bastard could at least tell him if he wasn’t going to keep bugging Guan Shan anymore. And maybe let him know he was still breathing. In his mind, he was owed at least that much.

_The next time the bastard contacts me_ , Guan Shan seethed and stomped around the last corner before reaching home, _I’m gonna tell him to –_

His mental rant was cut off by a pair of black shoes sticking out to the hallway. For a moment, it looked like two legs were sprouting from the concrete approximately where Guan Shan’s front door was. His steps slowed down as he inched towards his apartment. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had passed out in the hallway, but you never knew if they were just drunk or on something else, too.

Guan Shan took a careful peek. With a huff, he closed his eyes when he caught the first glimpse of the stranger’s face.

Speak of the devil.

Sitting on the dirty concrete floor in an expensive-looking suit and slumped against Guan Shan’s front door was He Tian sound asleep. His head was drooping against his chest, and a bottle-shaped brown paper bag loosely dangling from his right hand. 

For a moment, Guan Shan just looked down at the oblivious He Tian. The longer he listened to the drunken breathing, the harder it became to contain himself. All the feelings he had tried his best to ignore and shove down for months suddenly surfaced all at once. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

For five months and twenty-fucking-three days, Guan Shan had waited like a sap.

For the phone to ring. For the old man to come to the kitchen saying someone was asking for Guan Shan at the bar. For a knock at the door in the middle of the night. Something. _Anything_. While lying awake at night and staring at the dark ceiling, he would have welcomed any sign of life. The guy had made him feel and act like a fool, and now he had the nerve of showing up pissed drunk.

How fucking _dare_ he.

Guan Shan kicked the sole of He Tian’s shoes a couple of times. Hard. The deep breathing hitched, and He Tian’s heavy head twitched.

“Oi, you fucking drunkard,” Guan Shan growled and deliver another kick.

Slowly He Tian raised his head and his droopy eyes squinted groggily at the direction of Guan Shan’s voice. When he finally recognized Guan Shan towering over himself, He Tian’s dull drunken face twisted into an ugly lopsided grin. Without proper coordination of his limbs, he tried to straighten himself up but failed miserably. After a couple of tries, he settled for lifting the paper bag at Guan Shan, and whatever liquor was left sloshed in the bottle.

“Honey, I’m home~,” He Tian slurred.

“No, I’m home. And I’m too tired for your bullshit. Go sleep it off somewhere else.”

“Aww, little Mo, don’t – “

He Tian frowned and closed his eyes, swallowed and took a couple of deep breaths.

“I think I’m gonna – “

He Tian burped. His left hand shot to press tightly against his mouth, but it was too late. His middle cramped, and bile-colored liquid spurted through the squeeze of his palm. The vomit gushed out and stained He Tian’s face and clothes.

“Fucking hell,” Guan Shan said angrily and kneeled in front of He Tian.

He snatched the paper bag, pulled the bottle out (whiskey), and trying not to touch the puke-covered He Tian he handed the empty bag for him.

“Here, use this.”

A bit confused, He Tian looked at the crumbled bag before taking it. But instead of placing it over his mouth, he wiped his face with it and held it out for Guan Shan.

“Thanks.”

“No, you idiot – “

One look at He Tian’s glassy eyes struggling to focus on Guan Shan’s face made it clear further explanations would be an utter waste of time and energy. Both of which Guan Shan was running short. He looked at He Tian in his sorry state and shook his head.

“I can’t fucking believe you’re doing this to me. I’m about done with your bullshit.”

He Tian closed his eyes and swallowed. For a fleeting moment, Guan Shan braced for another spray of vomit and was ready to leap backward.

“Bullshit,” He Tian mumbled instead. “Is all bullshit. Bull~shit.”

No doubt finding himself hilarious, he chuckled a little.

“Bull~shit. Bhull~shhiit.”

Guan Shan sighed and looked around the hallway. Great. Just fucking great. It seemed he was either facing cleaning He Tian’s mess or trusting he had enough alcohol in his bloodstream to keep him warm through the night. Why were these always the choices in his life?

“Oi,” he said and slapped He Tian’s cheek before he could fall asleep again. “Can you stand up?”

He Tian’s eyes fluttered up, and he managed a smile of sorts. His hand reached out trying to cup Guan Shan’s face.

“For you, little Mo, I can do anything.”

Rolling his eyes, Guan Shan grabbed the hand and roughly yanked the slumped He Tian forward.

“How about showing up like a normal person for once?”

Guan Shan wrapped He Tian’s arm behind his neck and hooked a tight hold under his armpit. He gave a tentative tug, and the heavy body raised a couple of inches. He Tian grimaced at the strain on his shoulder.

“Ow.”

The bastard had the nerve to pout.

“Get a hold of yourself, for fuck’s sake,” Guan Shan snapped. “Or else I’m gonna leave your ass here.”

It took a couple of tries and very little help from He Tian, but Guan Shan managed to haul him on his feet. Sort of. He was more leaning heavily on Guan Shan than walking on his own, but at least he was more vertical than ten minutes ago.

“Little Mo,” He Tian mumbled and reached to sloppily kiss Guan Shan’s face. “My little Mo."

The pungent smell of vomit hit Guan Shan’s senses and he tried to put as much distance as possible between his nose and He Tian’s mouth. Unfortunately, in their position, he didn’t have a lot of wiggle room.

“C’mon," he grunted under the weight, "use your legs.”

He Tian seemed to have perked up a little and made at least valiant effort trying to make sense of his own limbs. Guan Shan secured his hold on He Tian’s weight the best he could and started lugging him towards the bed that loomed what seemed like miles away. For once, he hoped his room was smaller. At least dragging drunken bastards would have been easier. That’s the only thing he seemed to be good for anyway.

Accompanied by grunts and curses, they made their awkward tandem waddle across the room. With the last drops of his strength, Guan Shan flopped He Tian on the bed a bit roughly and he bounced on the mattress.

“Fuck, you’re heavy.”

Guan Shan tried to catch his breath and kneaded his lower back that had somehow seized up from the strain. He made a mental note of making He Tian pay if he couldn’t work tomorrow. Or the day after that. Pay for the old man, too. Maybe give them both a much-deserved day-off or two.

Already relishing the idea of sleeping in tomorrow and perhaps having some meat for dinner on the bastard’s credit card, Guan Shan didn’t notice He Tian pushing himself to sit up on the bed. Not until a pair of arms wrapped around his middle. He Tian buried his face in Guan Shan's shirt and rubbed against his stomach.

"My little Mo," he said, his voice muffled.

Guan Shan looked down at the top of He Tian's head not quite knowing what to do. He had made it so far without being covered in someone else’s vomit only to be soiled the last minute.

He gave a couple of halfhearted pushes to untangle himself but yielded soon after. Too tired to even get angry anymore, he allowed He Tian to hug his stomach. To steady his balance, Guan Shan put a hand on top of He Tian’s head and let his fingers get lost in the raven locks. The squeeze around his middle tightened.

For a while, all that could be heard in the little storage room were the occasional wet hitches in breathing and the rustling of stroking hair. No words were uttered. Talking would have only made it too real. Broken the spell that allowed both of them to pretend. Pretend that the front of Guan Shan’s shirt wasn’t getting wet and that he wasn’t cradling He Tian’s head just a little tighter.

Even if just for a moment, they needed this.

**The End.  
**

**Author's Note:**

> Behind the keyboard: [Tumblr](https://notthatiwilleverwriteit.tumblr.com/) | [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/venni.talvi.31) | Instagram: @notthatiwilleverwriteit


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